


Flight of Fancy

by whatthefuck



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Accidental Derek Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff, M/M, Partial Nudity, Winged Derek, Wingfic, im still learning how to tag, uhmn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7156175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefuck/pseuds/whatthefuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Have you finished staring?" He's asked suddenly. Derek jumps, turning red at being caught.</p><p>"I- uh-"</p><p>"Dude, a literal angel just fell from the heavens and collided with me, but you're the speechless one?"</p><p>Derek frowns, "I'm not an angel," he grumbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Give me all the constructive criticism. I need it.

Derek wakes up in a clearing in the middle of the forest. A large black ring of smoke surrounds him, charring the ground. He has on a pair of jeans, with nothing in the pockets. No cellphone, no wallet, no keys. 

Nothing.

He stands up, brushing himself off, and surveys his surroundings. 

There are trees all around him, as is expected, and a clear path that leads out from the clearing. It has no pebbles, or leaves, or twigs scattered across it. Instead, it's clean, as if someone just swept away all the dirt. 

Derek walks towards it; he wants to find out how he got here, what he's doing half naked in the woods, and he figures this must be the way to find out. 

Only once he starts walking does he notice an added weight on his back. Something's dragging him down. He turns his head to the left, and then to the right, but is unable to see what it is. 

Derek tries to reach behind him, to grab whatever it is that sits on him, except his hands brush against feathers. 

It better not be a goddamn animal. 

It's not.

A pair of wings protrude from his upper shoulders, running down to his spine. They're massive, each wings spreading out by about 9 feet, Derek would guess. 

He has wings. 

Why does he have wings?

 

\---

The wings are so dark they're nearly black, but in the sunlight they glint a rich blue. 

Derek can't control them. When he first opens his wings up fully, he's pulled back by the sheer force of the things and falls back on his ass. 

The second time, he gets caught in the branches of a tree. But, the second time doesn't count.

He tries to close them back up again, push them back towards his back so he can start walking along the path. His wings don't fit; they hit the trees as he walks down the narrow path and it's painful, so Derek stopped after the first three trees and stayed in the clearing.

Now, though. Now, the sun is getting higher in the sky, and the heat is making him restless. 

Where the hell is he?

He has a thought, just for a split second, that he could try to fly out of the top of the clearing, where the trees don't intertwine their branches but have left a wide gap, hopefully large enough, for him to maneuver through. 

Before Derek can discard the idea, his feet are lifting off the ground, his wings are flapping behind him, and he feels more than sees himself leave the clearing, eyes closed at the sudden movement. 

Holy shit. 

He tries to flap his wings, but they don't balance, can't find an equilibrium between themselves and so he ends up swerving left and right, as one wings always dominates the other. 

There's a house. Lot's of houses. Derek can see a city on the edge of the forest. With great difficulty he turns towards them and slowly, carefully makes his way there. 

It doesn't take long. Maybe 10 minutes, but at the end of those 10 minutes, Derek is exhausted. His back aches and his legs are wobbly, and he can't breathe. 

Losing focus, he starts to descend downwards at a rapid speed; can't pull himself up to avoid..

"Oh, shit."

There's a man, who looks up just as Derek curses. His eyes widen and he's frozen as he stands on the sidewalk outside a house. Derek tries to pull up, but the wings aren't co-operating anymore. They hang loosely at his sides. 

He collides harshly with the man, who in his shock didn't move out of the way in time.

Derek tumbles over his wings, ripping a few feathers, slaps the man on the face, and bangs his shoulder on the sidewalk, all in a matter of moments. 

He hears a faint, "Ow," from on top of him. The man wriggles to get off of him, elbowing him in the chest and groin in an effort to support himself.

"Fuck, stop moving, Jesus!" He yells.

"That's what got me in to this mess in the first place!" he finally manages to get off Derek, though he remains kneeling on the sidewalk. He holds one side of his face, but Derek can see moles splattered across the other, and some on his arm, too. The man has broad shoulders and a thin waist, long legs and an upturned nose. 

"Have you finished staring?" He's asked suddenly. Derek jumps, turning red at being caught. 

"I- uh-"

"Dude, a literal angel just fell from the heavens and collided with me, but you're the speechless one?"

Derek frowns, "I'm not an angel," he grumbles.

"You sure as hell look like one, with the whole..y'know.." He waves a hand in Derek's general direction.

Derek raises an eyebrow, and the man groans, but continues. "You have wings, dude! And also, you're literally the physical embodiment of perfection, with like the chiseled abs and-"

Derek laughs, tears forming in his eyes. 

The man stops talking. He doesn't know why he finds it so funny. Or even what he finds funny in particular. 

"Jesus Christ," he hears the guy mumble, "How do I find all the loonies."

Moments later, Derek opens his eyes to tell him, "I'm not an angel."

The skeptical look he receives urges him to carry on. "I woke up in a clearing with wings."

The guys eyes widen, and he looks just about ready to faint, which is strange considering he didn't seem all that bothered about an angel crashing in to him. 

Eventually he decides to just shake his head, standing up and brushing off the dirt on his jeans. He nods towards the house in front of them. "Come on then," he grumbles, "Come in and tell me how you ended up with freaking wings."

\---

Derek doesn't know why he follows. 

He'll bet the guy didn't really expect him to either. 

Except now, they're staring at each other across the table, two cup of coffee in their hands. 

"Do you know who you are?" 

Derek nods, "Derek Hale."

"Okay, at least you haven't lost your memory. Oh! I'm Stiles,"

"Stiles," Derek repeats slowly.

The guy- Stiles, grins. "Yeah, it's a nickname, don't worry about that. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Going to bed last night."

"And you woke up in the forest at the edge of the city with wings." Stiles raises both eyebrows, forehead creasing in disbelief. 

"Yes."

Stiles releases a sigh, relaxing back in to his chair. He lifts up his cup and Derek copies. 

"I'm going to call someone, okay?"

Derek panics, what if Stiles gives him up, what if they start running tests on him. 

Seeing Derek's stricken look, he quickly explains, "I'm going to call my dad, just to tell him you're here and not to worry when he sees a random guy in the house."

"Okay," He sighs, "Okay."

Stiles walks out of the kitchen through the back door, and stands on the porch. Derek can hear parts of their conversation but for the most part, tries to drown it out. It's rude to eavesdrop.

Minutes later, Stiles walks back in, looking somewhat shaken, but curious. 

"Are you okay, is everything alright?" Derek asks. 

"Yeah, but-"

"What?" He urges when Stiles stops. 

"You said Hale, right. Derek Hale?" When Derek nods, Stiles continues. "My dad- he's the Sheriff, he said the Hales... well, all the Hales are dead."

Derek freezes, heart racing. "What," he croaks out.

"According to county records, your family died about 80 years ago, and so did you."

Derek can't feel his hands, he feels numb everywhere, actually. 

"Does that make me an actual angel, then?"

"I suppose it would, right? Except, why are you here, now?"

Derek shrugs. He doesn't really have an answer. He only saw his mom, his dad, all his siblings last night at dinner. 

And now they're dead. 

"Hang on," Derek says suddenly, "That doesn't make sense-"

"You're telling me, dude," Stiles mumbles.

"No, no listen." Derek urges. "I- I live in this era, this time period, when I went to bed it was 2016. I put my phone on charge, I read _The Hunger Games_ and then I turned off the lights and went to bed."

Stiles' eyes widen, mouth parting in surprise. 

"So, how the hell have my family ended up dead for 80 years?"

Stiles definitely does faint, that time. 

Derek lifts him up in a bridal carry, and takes him to what he assumes is the living room. He lays Stiles down on the couch carefully, before going back to the kitchen. He fills up a glass of water and returns. 

While not mean enough to empty the whole glass over Stiles' face, it is tempting just to see his reaction, but Derek can understand the stress of the situation and simply sprinkles Stiles' face with the water instead. 

Stiles opens his eyes a little, eyes landing on Derek. "Good, thank god, I thought it was real. Jesus, that's some fucked up dream."

Derek coughs pointedly. 

Stiles eyes open further, before he stares at Derek for a good few moments. He groans, closing his eyes, and lets his head fall back on the armrest of the couch once more. 

"I'm calling Lydia," he says. "And Scott."

"Who?"

"And maybe my dad again,"

"Okay?"

"And possibly Deaton."


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles feels like he's in an alternate universe.

For once, Lydia doesn't have any answers. 

And for once, Deaton actually gives them straight answers. 

"Derek has crossed a breach," Deaton explains. "It's delicate, and hard to keep track of, but it can open every so often, taking whatever's closest with it."

"So, like a time portal?" Stiles asks. 

"Yes, but in this case no. Derek didn't time travel, considering he too was living in the 21st century. No, he jumped universes. 

So, Stiles isn't the one in an alternate universe, Derek is. 

Derek crosses his arms, wings ruffling behind him as he ignores the need to stretch them. "That still doesn't explain why I have wings."

Deaton smiles pityingly, "That I cannot help you with, Mister Hale. I'm sure everything will work out for the best, though."

Scrap that, there's no way Deaton would ever provide information openly. He knows something else. 

So much for straight answers. 

Stiles thanks the man and then shoves him out of the house along with his two best friends, although not unkindly in his approach.

He turns back to Derek once the door is closed. 

"Open them up."

"What?"

"You can open up your wings." Stiles says slowly, just in case Derek doesn't understand the words coming out of his mouth.

"They're going to break everything," Derek reasons. 

Stiles sighs, rolling his eyes, before he grabs a hold of Derek's arm and pulls him up the stairs. 

"Where are we-"

"Yes, yes, come on," Stiles interrupts.

If his fingers happen to tingle where they hold Derek's arm by the flesh, well, it's probably just residual energy from the portal jump. 

He pulls Derek in to his bedroom, and says once more, "Open up your wings."

Derek furrows his eyebrows. "Stiles, there are more things up here for me to knock over than there were downstairs."

"Yeah, but none of it is important, all of my stuff is at my apartment, anyway- and the carpet adds cushioning, so nothing will break. Now, come on!"

\---

Derek gives in, focusing on opening out the folded wings. His back feels lighter and heavier at the same time once he does. No longer bunched against his back, it feels cooler, but now he has to focus on keeping the weight of them off his shoulders. 

Stiles coos, running his fingers across the feathers, and Derek tenses. He didn't expect them to be this sensitive, and they weren't when he was bashing them against the trees. 

The wings reach the door on one side, and meet the cushions on Stiles' bed on the other. 

Stiles can't seem to stop grinning. "Dude, this is awesome."

"As awesome as that time they stopped flapping and I crashed in to you?" Derek teases. 

"You're a noob at the wings thing, these things happen." Stiles replies. "Now," He pats the bed. "Come and lie down here."

"Huh?" 

Stiles shoves him on to the bed, face first, and Derek goes, easily compliant and trusting in the hands of a man he's known for all of two hours. 

Before he can ask what Stiles plans to do, the man comes to sit on top of his thighs. Derek's wings are still out, so he tries to angle them away from Stiles.

But, Stiles starts to moan, "No, come back!" and Derek can see him making grabby motions out of the corner of his eyes. He rests his head on his folded arms and lets his wings fall back in to their place, surrounding Stiles. 

Stiles coos once more, brushing them at the root, where Derek's skin is raised and probably red, he gathers, from how sore it feels. 

Stiles moves away from combing his hands through the wings, as amazing as it feels, to put pressure down on Derek's upper shoulders and back, massaging the tissue there. Derek turns in to mush, feels his bones relax and sinks in to the mattress below him with a deep sigh. 

"I could tell," Stiles starts, "You were struggling with them downstairs, when we were talking to Deaton, Lydia, and Scott."

"They're heavy," Derek mumbles in to his arms, already too relaxed to lift his head and speak clearly.

"I can imagine, dude."

"Don't call me dude,"

Stiles just pushes down extra hard, and Derek can do nothing but moan at how amazing it feels. He can feel Stiles wriggling above him, so he reaches back with one hand to hold the man's thigh, the only part of him he can reach in this position. 

"If you're uncomfortable, we can stop," he says to Stiles.

"What, dude, no. I am the opposite of uncomfortable, I am so comfortable it's borderline inappropriate." and then Stiles freezes, making Derek freeze beneath him too. 

He grips a little harder at Stiles' thigh unconsciously. "You mean..?"

"Yep."

"Okay, good. Me too."

Stiles sits up, hands splayed across the roots of Derek's wings again. "Yeah?"

Derek groans, "Especially when you do that," he sighs, shifting up in to the hands. 

"Holy shit."

Derek rolls over, so that Stiles is trapped under him instead. He looks down at the man and can't help but grin. 

His wings move closer of their own accord, cocooning them in.

"This is cute," Stiles says.

"Not as cute as you."

Stiles splutters indignantly. "I am not cute! I am sexy, _sexy_ , Derek!"

Derek just smirks, before he notices something. 

"Oh my god," he says, moving to sit up, but Stiles pulls him back down before he gets too far, so their body's touch, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. 

"What is it?"

"I've been shirtless this whole time."

Stiles smirks, now, "Yep."

"And your friends saw me, and that man, Deaton!" Derek's horrified. 

Stiles, it would seem, isn't.

"If you've got it, flaunt it, right?" he asks. 

Derek gets the most perfect idea, pulling both himself and Stiles up. He remains seated in Stiles' lap, though. Before Stiles can protest, Derek yanks his shirt over his head and flailing arms.

"There," Derek grins, "Now we're even."


End file.
